BUNGALOW SMOKEHOUSE:

Turn away from noise,
Follow side streets,
Leaving Red lights to leap the back of cars,
Mirrors on their back seats,
Coffees held between legs,
Mouths moving furious,
Invisible friends,
Words falling into thin air,

What you got to complain about?
Cheer that mouth,
Lift that head,
You thought you were invincible,
Went to far,
Caned it again,
Working shirtless in the rain

(listening to: ‘Distance Early Warning’ by Laurence Pike)

(K)

STREET SCULPTURE:

So tired,
Where are you?
Running late,
Taking calls again,
It’s raining,
It’s a state of mind,
Park the car,
And walk for freedom,

So quiet,
Specifically nowhere,
Not lost,
Just not looking for direction,
Assorted parts are scattered,
In the back of a flatbed afternoon,
Kissing on the top deck of a steamed up bus

(K)

STREET ART:

Where are you?
Blank mysterious,
What are you racing towards,
What’s so important you can’t stop to smell the roses?
Catch a breath,

Illuminated spires of stone,
Point to the night sky,
Do you have time to look?
Cruising Curry Mile with intent,
Lights,
And ultraviolet encounters

(K)

MANCHESTER STREET POEM:

Two days up North,
Meetings with the Manchester Street Poem crew,
Once a month we gather,
To feed the web site,
And generate new projects,
Around delivering the stories,
Of fellow citizens,
Who have experienced,
And who are still experiencing,
The effects of homelessness,
Their journeys,
And circumstances,
Their Experience,
Strength,
And hope

(Photo by MHB)

(K)

POWER:

A man walks in with a big stick,
Raises it,
Points at the sky,
The sky turns Blue,
With writing,
People walk in covered in sparkles,

The sky is fake,
The sun has set,
And yet,
Is Blue,
Here comes tiny glasses,
Held delicate between fingers with magnificent nails

(K)

FOLDED SHADOW:

The old man looks like a painter,
Crossing the road from the last century,
Beneath a battered Panama,
He’s had a life,
With a slow shuffling stick,
Know’s exactly where he’s going,
And he’ll get there,
In his own time,
As the world surrounds him with frenzy,
Looking foolish,
Frantic,
Headless chicken dancing,
Justified,

The blind man walks a blind dog across the road,
Both dressed in Black,
And sharp,
The traffic stops,
The speed,
The noise,
The world holds it’s breath,
Takes a break from it’s self,
And looks around,
Long enough for a blind man & his dog to cross a road,
Curious,
Don’t you think?

(Listening to: Slagr – ‘DIRR’)

(K)

ON FOOT:

How far have you rambled?
Are you a friend?
How do you do that?
How do you get friends?
Did you just say please?

(Listening to Skydive Trio – ‘Sun Sparkle’)

(K)

YELLOW:

It’s the only language they understand,
Knocking doors & running,
I seen ‘em at night,
Down by the garages & bins,
I know what they’re doing,
All the para-medics were round again last night,
Flashing lights,
It’s like,
“Oh, hello do you live here?”
“Yeah, you saw me last week”
“Oh, yeah do you want to get to your flat?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind it’s been a long day”

This is a story,
A man tells a woman,
In a room full of empty chairs,
I think he fancies her,
Or not,
She’s glowing,
Offering me something hot that I decline,
You can’t grass me up

(K)

ART TEMPORARILY POSTPONED DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCES

WATCH YOUR STEP:

I’ve got all this stuff,
And I don’t know what to do with it,
I’m an accumulator,
A collector,
I’m attached to things most people throw away,
An outsider,
Living with my rubbish,

I could recount the story behind every scrap of paper,
Every cheap plastic trinket,
Every moment carried by these worthless things,
Anybody in their right mind would throw it all away,
I’ve even got stuff in storage I haven’t seen for years,
But I know it’s there,
I feel it,

Maybe,
One day,
I’ll open a museum,
And you’ll come to visit

(K)